


Tender Hearts

by Sophia_Bee



Series: Charles and Erik: Man on The Train [7]
Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Adorable, Angst, Break Up, Companionable Snark, Dysfunctional Family, Friendship, Getting Back Together, Love, M/M, Marriage, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:23:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4623483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles finds his heart on the line yet again when he learns that Erik has been keeping a ten year previous relationship from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Angst and trains. I've added a bit of Erik POV here too. So many thanks to **Leafeylocket** for some cross-cultural education. xoxo my dear friend.

The house is quiet. Too quiet.

There may have been a time when Charles welcomed the quiet but today it is climbing into his brain, his heart, and everything feels like it’s pressing in around him. He feels a tear that he didn’t know he still had start to roll down his cheek. No. Not again. Why can’t he be done with this? He taps his fingers on the table and stares across the room. The sky outside hangs low, heavy with clouds, blocking out the sun and making it seem unusually dark. Charles runs a hand through his hair and sighs heavily. His eye stops on the sculpture that sits in front of the window, the one that Raven had given him to mark his marriage to the love of his life.

Charles feels like such a fool.

He picks up his phone off the table. No texts. No calls.

He doesn’t know what he really expects. He’d asked for no contact, had made it clear that was what he needed. He had spit out his anger, dug in as deep as he could and hurt in the only way he knew how. Not once had Erik protested. He had just stood in the middle of their living room, face wet with tears and nodded, taking everything Charles could throw at him. He was perfect to the end and this made Charles hurt even more. Even in their worst moments, Erik knew what to do.

He misses him. There is a hollow, neverending pain lodged in his sternum and his heart feels like a black hole, threatening to suck him into nothingness. Right now the pain is eclipsed by the rage he feels as he stares at the sculpture.

Charles taps quickly to his favorites and presses Raven’s contact.

_Come take this fucking sculpture._

He wants to scream but he’s already done enough of that. He wants to cry but it seems he only has a few tears left. The voice in his head, the one that tells him that he is no good, that no one could love him the way Erik said he did, so what did he expect, tells him again that he was a fool to think that anyone could be that perfect. Still, Erik was nothing but perfect except for one glaring problem that is now tearing them apart.

Charles’ phone dinks.

_It won’t help._

Charles wants to hurl the phone across the room. Raven is his sister. She’s supposed to be on his side, but the day he told Erik to leave, she had stared at him through the computer screen and told him sadly that there are no sides here. She said she wished she were in the city, that she should be there for him, and that she loved them both. She was back in New York two days later, Hank in tow, standing on the other side of his door with the same sad look. Charles had not hesitated when she took him into her arms and held him as he sobbed. She had held him as he told her that he had loved Erik like no other; held him and whispered that he LOVES Erik still.

It feels like yesterday that his world crumbled. All thanks to a letter.

Erik told him he had read the letter ten times, wishing it meant something other than what it said. He told him he wanted to burn it, to shred it into tiny pieces, to pretend it didn’t exist. Instead he had set it on their dining room table and waited for Charles to come home; waited with eyes full of tears.

That letter had led to Charles staring petulantly at their wedding gift from Raven.

 _I’m going to throw the goddamn thing out the window._ Charles texts back to his sister.

_No you’re not. This isn’t over, Charles._

Charles stares at the phone. Raven has said the same thing to him over and over again during the last few weeks. If it’s not over, why does it feel like it? Why does it feel impossible for things to be any different? He waits for Raven to text back something placating, telling him they will work it out, that love can conquer all. She doesn’t say anything of the sort, because somehow Raven knows him and knows what he needs.

_Should I come over?_

The sob that has been building in Charles' throat breaks through. The screen of his phone is wet as he texts back.

_Yes_

It had been a long shift the day Charles came home to find Erik sitting in the dark. There was no dinner on the stove, no glass of wine handed to him. Everything had been normal up until then. Charles had felt the same bone-weariness he always carried home with him after a shift, along with the same joy he always felt in anticipation of seeing his husband. He had kicked off his clogs just like always, had pulled off his scrubs and thrown them in the washer, then grabbed sweats and a t-shirt. He had walked into the dining room, rubbing a bit at his eyes, wondering what would be for dinner. That was the moment Charles realized that something was wrong. Not just bad. Not off. Wrong, and desperately wrong. Erik watched him as he entered the room, sitting at one end of the table, a piece of paper in front of him. The room was only lit by the streetlights shining through the window and Erik’s face was a mass of shadows.

“I’m sorry.” Erik said, his voice sounding raspy and not like him at all. In the dim light it was as if he was a stranger. Charles tried to ignore the dread that crept up him, slow and liquid, filling him with something that he did not want to name. Charles wanted to make small conversation, talk about the weather, anything but what he thought might be coming next.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what to do about this all day,” Erik said. Charles stayed standing where he was, frozen, unable to move.

“No.” Charles somehow managed to whisper. He didn’t need the details. Every moment of rejection he’d ever experienced came rushing at him. Every boyfriend telling him it wasn’t him, that they worked better as friends. Scott telling him that he couldn’t marry him. It was all there, and Charles gasped with the force of it. Now it was Erik, and Charles knew that everything he’d feared was about to come true.

He should have known.

Erik let out a long sigh, as if he'd been holding his breath as he sat waiting for his husband to get home.

“I should have told you." Erik gestured towards the paper on the table. "I just didn’t realize it mattered and we are so happy, so I thought the past should stay in the past.”

“Erik. Please.”

If only the past could have stayed there. It didn’t. It came rushing in like a tornado in the form of a letter from Germany. A letter that would rip the life they’d built together into shreds.

“His name is Sebastian.” Erik continued, ignoring Charles’ plea. Charles remembers how his voice was flat, providing information as if he were reading off the morning news. “We were together for almost ten years. He supported me through medical school. We broke up and I came here and met you.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Charles had whispered, not really wanting to hear all the details of Erik’s past. He’d never really wanted to know that there was anyone before him. And now, to hear that Erik had been with someone for almost ten years, Charles felt the fear well up that he was just another one of Erik’s long-term relationships destined to fall apart. Their marriage, their life, meant nothing.

“I never married him, Charles. Not like you.” Erik said, his voice growing more forceful. “I never wanted to. Ten years and not once did I think of marrying him, but I met you and it was all I wanted. Do you see? I never loved him - anyone for that matter - the way I love you…”

Erik’s voice had trailed off at that point and Charles knew there was more to the story. He just didn’t realize how much more.

“So?” Charles asked. He wanted to run. He wanted to tell Erik to leave so he could be alone, curl up, cry. Instead he stood there, waiting for the final blow. It was Scott all over again. It was Charles yet again not being allowed to be happy.

“He’s suing for support.”

Charles felt his heart drop. Erik had never told him about someone he’d loved for ten years and now this man, this Sebastian, was saying it was enough of a relationship that he should get money.

"Mein Gott, to hear it out loud. It makes it so real." Erik choked out. Charles immediately went to rub his wedding band, the gold smooth under his fingers. Ten years and Erik never mentioned it.

"I'm going to bed." Charles had said dully. His whole body felt numb.

"Charles." Erik's voice was thick with tears. "Please."

Erik slept on the couch that night. The following night they went to bed together but when Erik moved to cuddle up against Charles' side like he always did, Charles turned away.

Charles thought he could get over it. It was just a formality. But over the next few days all he could do was kick himself over and over. Erik had loved someone else for ten times longer than he’d loved Charles. A Sebastian. Charles wasn’t special, he was just another person that Erik would eventually leave.

These facts gnawed away, eating into Charles' psyche until he felt he could barely look at Erik in the morning. After a week, Charles had asked Erik to leave. Erik had not argued. Erik never argued. He just accepted and part of Charles desperately wanted him to fight. Instead he had just turned and walked to their bedroom and packed his bag.

That was two weeks ago.

The door downstairs rattles and for a moment Charles thinks it might be Erik. He’s come back and they will be happy again, and there is no Sebastian. Raven’s voice rings out into the silence and Charles remembers that Erik is not coming back. Charles asked him to stay away and Erik would not go against Charles' wishes.

“Up here.” Charles calls and a few moments later Raven’s now-black hair pokes around the corner just before the rest of her. Charles smiles and it’s the first time he’s smiled in days. It seems his sister is channeling an early eighties Robert Smith look, surely just to shock the hell out of Sharon.

“Dear god, the two of you. He’s moping.” Raven declares, settling into one of the chairs next to Charles. She offers Charles a sad look. “As are you, brother dearest.”

“So would you if you found out that your husband was practically married to someone else.”

Raven gives him a bit of a look and Charles knows she thinks he might be being a bit dramatic. He flashes her a wan smile. At least he hasn’t lost his sense of humor.

“He wasn’t married, Charles. Erik told me they never even talked about marriage. He thought it was over with Sebastian.”

“A ten year relationship and he doesn’t bother to bring it up? And this Sebastian suing for SUPPORT? If feels like marriage.” Charles scoffs. Raven shrugs at him.

“I can’t explain Erik. All I know is that he loves you and you are both being torn apart over this.”

It’s Charles’ turn to shrug. Raven is just lucky. For her, love has always been enough. She met Hank, fell in love and there has never been any question. For Charles, love is fraught with complications. There is a part of him that feels he will never truly be loved and sometimes he wonders if he has lived most of his life waiting for the universe to prove that he is unworthy. He knew it would happen with Erik. He was a fool to think it wouldn’t, and then it did. Ten years. A man Erik had never even mentioned. It made everything about them, about Charles and Erik, feel like a lie.

Anyway, it’s just another piece of evidence on the pile that tells Charles he is not allowed to have the kind of happiness Erik had promised.

“Aren’t you going back to London?” Charles asks, returning to stare at the offending sculpture and imagining what it would feel like to watch it shatter on the patio below. He hears Raven in the kitchen now. The sound of drawers opening, cupboards opening and shutting. There is a clank of pans.

“When was the last time you ate?” Raven calls out, either ignoring his query or maybe having not heard it at all. Charles actually doesn’t know the answer to her question. He kind of remembers Angel shoving something into his hand at work that morning. Coffee. He thinks it was coffee.

“This morning. Angel got me a coffee.”

Charles can almost hear Raven’s scowl across the room. She makes a disapproving sound and Charles wants to protest. His heart is broken and he’s supposed to eat? He can’t sleep. He can’t stop missing Erik’s warmth next to him. He can’t stop crying in the shower, letting the tears mix in with the spray. He’s not entirely sure how he’s managing to work, going through the motions of each shift like a zombie. And if he does manage to eat he can’t even taste what he puts in his mouth.

“Aren’t you going back to London?” Charles tries again, this time making his voice louder. Raven’s hair peeks around the corner again.

“Actually.” She starts, flashing him the kind of smile that always means Raven is up to something. Somehow Charles manages to smile back, but it feels shallow and stretched. “We’re coming back. Hank is making the arrangements.”

Charles' mouth falls open.

“But your fellowship.” Charles says, not bothering to contain his surprise at this news. He’s longed for Raven to come back but he’s never actually begged her outright, and now she’s telling him she and Hank will come back to the city.

“Fellowship, smellowship.”

“Really, Raven.” Charles cocks an eyebrow. A bit of sibling banter and he feels a tad lighter. “Are you thirteen? One does not walk away from a Museum of London fellowship lightly."

“There are some things more important in life than one’s career.” Raven says with a smile. “Anyway, Sharon will give them a grand donation. I’m sure it will soothe any ruffled feathers left in the aftermath.”

“Raven.” Charles says. She freezes and looks at him, her eyebrows raised, as if she’s waiting for his next admonition, for him to tell her again she cannot treat the world as a revolving door. Instead of the standard Big Brother Lecture Charles takes a deep breath and opts for something entirely different. “I love you.”

Before he can say anything else, his arms are full of his little sister and she is holding him and rocking him, just like a mother might but in a way that Sharon would never stoop to. After a long moment Raven pulls away. She gives Charles a long look.

“How is he?” Charles finally asks. He doesn’t want to ask. He wants to pretend that he can be strong about this, that he can move on and not care. Raven mock-frowns at him.

“I don’t know, Charles. Is telling breaking the no-contact order?” Clearly Raven thinks they are being stupid.

“Raven.” Charles pleads. It might be a little in the gray area, but he suddenly must know. “I know he’s holed up with Sharon. She must be afraid for her gin.”

“Sharon is always afraid for her gin.” Raven snorts. "She locks up the liquor when the children-dying-of-cancer come around."

“How is he?” Charles asks again, ignoring his sister's commentary on their mother's drinking habits.

“I don’t know. How would you think he would be? He loves you and you’re incredibly daft. So he’s turned out to be a bit more complicated than you initially thought. He has a past. We all have pasts. Well, maybe all of us except Hank. God, my sweet Hank really doesn’t have a past. Erik wouldn’t be the Erik you love if he didn’t have that past. Even if it’s uglier than you realized.”

Charles feels his chest tighten. That hollow pain is there again. He takes in a deep, shaking breath. Tears start to prick at his eyes.

“I just don’t know why he didn’t tell me, Raven. I told him about Scott. I told him all of it. He never mentioned having a long-term lover. Not once. Not until that lover became a problem. What else is he not telling me? Are there kids out there he’s fathered? Is he some sort of war criminal on the run?”

“Oh, Charles.” Raven sighs, capitulating to his demands. “I’m so sorry this hurts so much. He’s no better. He’s not sleeping, not eating. You are both better together than you are apart.”

Charles isn’t surprised Erik isn’t eating. The few times he’s glimpsed him at the hospital he’s looked even thinner than he was before, with dark circles under his eyes. Seeing him walking down the gleaming hallways reminds Charles of their first meetings, the way Erik smiled at him, his teasing eyes. His delicious ass, how much Charles had wanted to fuck him.

The first time he had seen him in the distance after he told Erik to leave, Charles had ended up sobbing to himself in the breakroom until Angel came in with a box of tissues and then he sobbed on her shoulder a bit too.

A timer in the kitchen goes off and Raven goes to attend to it, returning with a plate.

“Tuna melt," she says with a smile. Charles looks up at her plaintively. He leans over and sniffs at it.

“Tuna melt?”

Raven shrugs.

“You need to go shopping. I’ll have some groceries delivered. Can’t have my brother wasting away.”

Charles smiles. Maybe something good has come of this. Yes, he’s lost the love of his life but his sister is back. It makes it sting a tiny bit less.

“I’ve missed you Raven,” Charles says. At that moment Raven’s phone buzzes and she looks at it.

“Hank. Wants me to pick up black nail polish.”

“Hank.” Charles says. It’s the first time since he asked Erik to leave that he feels any semblance of normalcy. It’s good to have his family back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This gin, it's better than both of us." - Sharon Xavier

"More gin?"

Erik runs a hand through his hair and slumps down further into the oversized leather chair that dominates one corner of the Xavier estate library, one of the corgis slumbering by his feet.

"Gin can't fix everything, Sharon." Erik sighs, taking a sip. God, he fucked up. The best thing in his life, his husband, and he royally fucked up. "God, I fucked up." Erik moans aloud, no longer able to contain his inner monologue.

"Well that's been well established at this point." Sharon says dryly, "otherwise you'd be home fucking your husband instead of sitting here getting drunk with me."

"Good god, Sharon, you're crass."

Erik isn't too surprised considering his mother-in-law sent them a basket of sex toys on their honeymoon.

"I should have just told him. It's just that I'd left Sebastian in the past. I met Charles and nothing else seemed to matter. I thought we were done. I never imagined."

The letter had been an utter shock. Erik came home to find it sitting in their mailbox with a German postmark. He had finished pain rounds early that day and thought he might whip up some soup for dinner. Charles wouldn't be off shift for a few more hours and he'd be hungry when he got home.

The soup never got made.

Erik almost didn't open the envelope. He threw the mail on the counter next to his bag then went to rummage around in the fridge. After some searching he emerged triumphant. It seemed Charles had indeed remembered to buy Erik's favorite German beer. Erik grabbed the magnetic bottle opener from the fridge and pried the top off, bringing the bottle to his mouth and taking a long, satisfying swig. Ahhhhh. Charles was a good husband. Best husband Erik had ever had.

Maybe it was the German beer that reminded Erik of the envelope. Otherwise, maybe it would have sat there until the morning and Erik would have had one more night of entirely ignorant bliss. After all, being with Charles was pretty much Erik's definition of bliss.

If you had asked Erik if there was such a thing as love at first sight before he'd met Charles, Erik would have laughed in your face. He had just ended things with Sebastian and was bitter enough about relationships in general. The last few years with Sebastian had been a heartbreaking tangle of indifference and hostility, and Erik wasn't sure what it actually meant to love someone. Yes there was love in movies and books, but real life seemed rife with disappointment.

Then he met Charles.

It wasn't Charles' body that had attracted him. Well, it was. He was small, compact, muscled and a very lovely freckled ginger who had it going on in all the right places. Plus he looked hot in scrubs. Before he even knew Nurse Funsize's name Erik had once missed his floor because he was occupied with staring at Charles's ass. God, that ass. Charles, like most nurses, could hardly stand still, so he was shifting his weight as he stared at the floor numbers, causing his ass to flex in the most obscene ways, resulting in Erik having a giant hard on that was almost impossible to will away.

But that wasn't it. Charles turned out to be funny, passionate, smart, and impervious to Erik's charms. What had started as an attempt to get hot Nurse Funsize to give him a blowjob in a supply room turned into something else entirely. Erik had known almost right away that he would marry the man. Somehow he had convinced Charles that he should reciprocate and the rest was history.

Then the letter arrived.

Erik remembers picking up the envelope that afternoon, his beer sweating on the marble kitchen counter, the Kitchenaid standing mixer glinting in the sunlight, a constant reminder of the strange relationship between Erik's mother-in-law and his husband. He would like to say he had some inkling that his life was about to take a sudden left-hand turn, but he didn't. He was just happy. Charles would be home soon. They had plans for the weekend. His job at the hospital was going well. He had no idea he was about to be t-boned by a Mac truck in the form of his ex, Sebastian Shaw.

At first Erik didn't quite understand what the letter was saying. So he read it again. Then a third time.

Holy fuck.

Initially Erik wanted to get rid of the letter. Maybe he could just pretend it wasn't real. He and Charles were happy. Sebastian Shaw was buried in the past. But he knew better. Even if he threw out the letter, from now on he would only be saying a drawn-out goodbye to the love of his life, waiting for the moment Charles discovered his secret and walked away. No, he needed to tell him, but how does one tell his husband he's being sued for support when he's neglected to mention he was even in a relationship before, let alone one that lasted for ten years?

In the end Erik never made the soup. The good German beer stayed partly drunk on the counter. Erik sat down at the dining room table with that letter and waited. He waited as the sun slipped below the horizon, bathing the city in its warm red glow. He waited as the muted tones of grey, the color of the night, filled the room. He waited until he heard the turn of the front door handle, the jingle of keys and the soft tuneless whistle that meant his husband was home. Erik felt sick. He heard the sound of the washer being started, the soft creak of Charles' bare feet climbing the stairs. Then Charles walked into the room and froze. That was the beginning of the end.

“Sooooo fucked up.” Erik moans.

“Dear god, you’re tedious.” Sharon answers. “Can’t you and my son fix this so I can get back to my regular country club gossip?”

Erik takes a another drink of gin and levels a glare at his mother-in-law. “You are a terrible mother.”

“And you are a terrible husband.” Sharon answers. “But this gin, it’s better than both of us.”

Erik nods. Yes, it is.

Erik slept on the couch the night he told Charles about Sebastian. It was the first time since they’d gotten together that they’d slept apart like that. He was back in the bedroom the next night, but when he scooted towards Charles, craving the feel of his body in his arms, wanting his warmth, Charles just rolled away. Erik thought it would get better, that Charles would wake one morning and the betrayal would be enough in the distance that they could finally talk about it. Instead Charles left early and worked late, and in between he barely looked at Erik.

After a week, Charles asked him to leave.

Erik did not fight him.

It’s not that he didn’t want to. He wanted to sink to his knees and beg Charles not to do this. He wanted to tell him a million times and then a million more of the regret he carried about not telling Charles about Sebastian.

“Ten years.” Charles had spit out. “You were with him ten years and never said a thing to me.”

Erik stayed silent. He was wrong. He knew that.

“I thought I knew you.”

Erik had wanted to protest, to tell Charles that he is the only one who has ever known him. He is the one who brought light back into his life, who made him believe in love. He still stayed silent. The only protest Erik mounted were the tears that streamed down his face. When Charles was done, Erik turned and walked away, going to their room and packing a bag. It was only when he got into the car that he finally broke down, his body shaking with sobs as he cried out Charles’ name.

He didn’t know where to go. He’d only been in the States a little over a year. All their friends were shared. In the end, Erik drove to Westchester and one of the staff let him in. It was pouring that night, the roads slick and dangerous, and Erik can still remember the way his hands had gripped the wheel as he made his way towards the only place he thought might accept him.

Sharon had appraised him coolly the next morning when he showed up for breakfast.

“So this is how it’s going to be?” She had asked, spearing a tomato with her fork and lifting it to her already lipsticked mouth. “You’re an idiot, my son’s an idiot and I get a houseguest.”

Erik hadn’t answered. He’d just pushed some of the scrambled eggs on his plate around and stared at the buttered English muffin. One of the dogs rubbed up against his pant leg. Sharon had sighed and rolled her eyes then taken a drink of her coffee.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> danger, Scott is the voice of reason.

Two days after Raven and the tuna melt there’s a knock on the door. Charles is pretty sure it’s not Raven because she rarely bothers to knock, so maybe it’s Hank, come to drop off some soup from the Thai Restaurant around the corner. He’s positive it’s not Erik, but something inside him sinks a little when he thinks this. Maybe he actually wants it to be Erik. Charles shakes his head, trying to clear away the small spark of hope he feels building. It’s not Erik. 

Charles has been off-shift for a couple days, hasn’t shaved and doesn't really care if Hank sees him in his sweats and robe, so he shuffles to the door and opens it, only to find that it’s not Hank on the other side. It’s someone else entirely.

“Scott!” Charles says, unable to contain his surprise. Scott Summers might be the last person on earth Charles would expect to find outside his door. He’s clearly coming from the hospital, still in his long white coat, but with his tie undone. In his left hand is a six pack of Charles’ favorite beer. In spite of himself, Charles smiles.

“So, can I come in?” 

Charles almost jumps at Scott’s question then he moves out of the doorway so Scott can walk by, closes the door and they both climb the stairs to the living room. Twenty minutes later they are sitting on the couch, a bowl of chips on the coffee table, both with a beer in hand. Charles glances over at Scott, who is taking a long drink. Scott makes a loud ‘ah’ sound then sets the bottle down. 

“So, this is strange.” Charles finally says. The beer is swirling in his stomach and already making him feel light-headed. 

“I guess.” Scott said. “I mean, it is if we’re not friends. I thought we might be friends.” 

Friends. Charles glances over at Scott again. Is that what they’ve finally become? After all the hurt, can Scott come over and have a beer and it’s all okay?

“Anyway,” Scott continues, “I saw your husband a couple days ago at work.”

Charles freezes. He doesn’t know how far the gossip mill has gotten at work. Is this Scott coming to rekindle what has been dead forever? Now that Erik is out of the picture, does he think he has a chance? Charles takes another swallow of beer. He wishes he could actually taste it. His stomach lurches a bit. 

 

“And guess what? He didn’t try to kill me. Or punch me. He didn’t even make fun of me. Just walked on by. And you know what else?”

Charles shook his head, feeling a little wary about this conversation. 

“He looked like hell.” 

Charles feels that chest clench again. Erik. Oh Erik, looking like hell. Not eating. Not harassing Scott. For the first time he wonders if he’s made the right decision. 

“So I talked to Angel and she gave me the scoop. Well, after I bribed her with a coffee.” 

“Oh.” Charles says. 

Another swig of beer. A long silence. Charles plays with the bottle, picking at the edge of the label until it starts to peel away from the glass. Scott drains his and sets the bottle down onto the coffee table with a loud clank. He turns to look at Charles. 

“You’re an idiot.” Scotts says into the silence. Charles blinks. 

“What?” 

“An idiot. Certifiable. You should lead a course in idiocy. Erik is the best goddamn thing to ever happen to you. Listen. I’m an idiot too. I let you go all those years ago, but I’m not sorry. You and I were never meant to be, and that was abundantly clear when you met Erik. You love each other and whatever is going on, well, it needs to stop.”

Charles swallows as he takes in Scott’s words. This is the man Erik tried to poison when Charles invited him over for dinner. This man who Erik spends countless hours trying to figure out how to annoy. And here he is saying that Erik is the best thing ever to happen to CHARLES. Not the other way around. 

“He lied to me, Scott. Well, not exactly lied, but he didn’t tell me things.”

Scott blinks and stares at Charles. Charles stares back, thinking that this information should have more impact than it has, yet Scott sits there acting like Charles had just told him something obvious, like the color of the sky is blue, or that Erik’s eyes are beautiful, or that Sharon is a social drunk.

“So?” Scott finally says, shrugging a little. “I’m sure Erik had his reasons.”

“What?” Charles says, dumbfounded to hear Scott actually defend Erik. He looks around to see if the walls are starting to shake, perhaps it’s the beginning of the apocalypse. No. Everything looks just the same as it did before those words came out of his ex-boyfriend’s mouth. 

“Just settle it. Give the bastard what he wants and move on. You certainly have the money to fix this.”

Charles gapes at Scott. Doesn’t he get it? Erik has betrayed Charles. He never told him about his past relationship. He knows what Erik would say - has said. It never felt like it mattered. Once he met Charles, his past felt meaningless. Still, ten years and now this other man, this Sebastian Shaw, wants money. Lots of money. And what he and Erik have together feels like a lie. 

Charles tells this to Scott. He tells him all of it, as they make their way through the six pack and then crack open a good bottle of red and keep talking. They order pizza, and Charles even lets Scott get his favorite and for the first time since Erik left, food tastes good. Really good. They talk some more. Scott listens in a way he never did when they were dating and Charles starts to see how they both have grown since then. 

“You know, Erik may never have told you about Sebastian, but I’m guessing that you never asked.” Scott says, grabbing the last piece of pizza and taking a bite. 

“Scott Summers, junior psychologist.” Charles quips. Still, what Scott says makes sense. Erik came into his life like a tornado and Charles was so happy. He felt so loved and there was part of him that felt asking questions might destroy all of that. Charles starts to understand that if Erik didn’t volunteer his past, Charles also never asked. Because he was afraid and when all of this happened - Sebastian, the lawsuit - it just reinforced that Charles has always suspected. He is not allowed to be loved. He tells this to Scott. 

“Yes.” Scott says. “You have always been afraid to love. Even with me. All of those gestures, those romantic moments, you were still somewhere out there and not with me. I’m not saying what happened with us was your fault. I fucked it up as well. Then Erik came along and I saw who you are when you really do allow yourself to love someone else.”

Charles looks at Scott. He’s right. Charles is hurt and he spends a good amount of time waiting for the next injury to come along. How funny that Scott Summers of all people is sitting on his couch telling him this. He’s the last person on earth Charles would expect to be having this moment with. 

“Do you want to catch a game next week?” Charles asks, trying to push away all the feelings that are coursing through him. How better than a little basketball. “Sharon has courtside season tickets.” Scott smiles. 

“Hell yeah. But Charles?” 

“Yes.” 

“If we’re going to be friends, Erik needs to accept that. He really scares me sometimes.” 

Charles smiles a real smile. The first one in weeks. It’s warm, reaching all the way to his heart. _His Erik_ , bristling and angry, unforgiving that Scott ever hurt him, but his. 

“I can handle my husband.” Charles says. “I want to catch a game and I want to be friends with you.”

“Really?” Scott asks, raising an eyebrow. He looks doubtful and Charles doesn’t blame him. 

“Yeah.” Charles says with a shrug. “I think so. Once we get things all sorted out, and if he’ll have me back.”

Scott snorts. 

“If he’ll have you back? I can’t imagine you two won’t pick up right back at the disgustingly happy point you left off at. And we’ll all go back to puking in our coffee instead of waiting for one of you to end up on the psych ward.” 

“Hmmmm.” Charles intones. “I’m going to ignore you, Summers. I’ve learned that it’s the best strategy.” 

 

“Well, time for me to go.” Scott stands up and stretches a little. He gathers the empties and takes them to the recycling bin, saying something about not drinking this much in a long time. Charles follows him and throws an arm around his shoulder. 

“You took the train, right Summers?” Charles asks. 

“Of course, Xavier.” 

“See you next week?” 

“Can’t wait.” 

And with that, Scott Summers is gone and Charles is alone again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> danger, Sharon is the voice of reason

Life without Charles wasn’t really living. Food was tasteless. Sleep was impossible. Erik went to work, guiding the Fiat through rush hour traffic, wishing it didn’t smell faintly of Charles’ cologne. He went through the motions at work, doing his job the best he could, then he drove back to Westchester, to face another evening of Sharon chiding him for his stupidity.

A week after Charles had kicked him out, Erik ran into Scott Summers in the hallway. He barely noticed the other man, who nervously glanced in his direction.

“What?” Erik had heard from behind him. He stopped and turned to find Summers standing in the middle of the hallway staring at him. “Don’t you want to threaten to beat me up or something.”

Erik had sighed.

“No,” he said tiredly.

“Oh.” Scott had replied, his brow knitting with concern. Erik felt a mild amount of annoyance rise at the thought that the asshole might actually care that he’s miserable, then he quickly brushed it aside. What did it matter anyway?

“Do you want something, Summers?” Erik had asked.

“Um, not really.” Summers answered.

“Then I’m late for a meeting.”

Erik had turned and left Summers gaping in the hallway like a fish out of water. Any other time he would have been thrilled to have made Scott Summers so flabbergasted, but Scott’s consternation had held no thrill for Erik. Not when he was here and Charles was in their home and they weren’t together.

Sharon hired a lawyer. She said it was ridiculous for Erik to act like moping would solve this, and she certainly had the means. She speculated that’s why Sebastian had reared his ugly head at such an inopportune time.

“You have married into wealth, my dear.” Sharon mused one night as they sat together in the library. “I’m sure word gets around. He’s an opportunistic bastard and I will crush him.” She took a drink from her glass. “Well, my lawyer will.”

Raven blew in a few days after Erik had fled to Westchester, arriving with the force of a hurricane and Hank in tow, as usual. Hank had cast a pitiful glance at Erik, and if he was a man of more words he might have even said something like, “sorry, bro” and given Erik a hard pat on the back. It might have happened if anyone could get a word in edgewise but it was Raven who dominated, chiding Erik ten times over for being an idiot.

“I take it you and your mother talk. Everyone around here seems to have the same opinion of me.” Erik had said dryly.

“He’s a mess, Erik. He called me right away and blubbered unattractively over Skype.”

“Charles is never unattractive.” Erik had managed, feeling a bit defensive. He found his husband utterly adorable in all stages of life, including the one where his eyes were red and his nose was running.

“You think that because you love him, and if you love him, why are you here when he’s in that house with the lights out crying over a pint of Häagen-Dazs? This is utterly ridiculous.”

“I betrayed him, Raven.” Erik had sighed. None of this felt particularly ridiculous. If only he’d told Charles all about Sebastian from the start. Then when the letter arrived it could have been forwarded to Sharon and her lawyers and forgotten about.

“You’re human, Erik. So is he. You’re going to hurt each other. It's just like my brother to take any injury and make it into something big enough to destroy him. Fucking self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Raven stayed and breakfast turned into a typical Xavier family affair, with Raven and Sharon trading insults and Hank watching over the rim of his coffee cup. Evenings were still just for Erik and Sharon, gin and the library. That is where Erik found himself once again.

It’s raining outside. It’s been raining all day, adding to the gloom that pervades everything. The fire in the hearth of the library fireplace is starting to turn to embers. Their conversation has long since faded, although it seems the only thing they talk about is all of Erik’s mistakes, so Erik is grateful for the silence. He sets his half empty glass onto the side table and stretches out his legs, staring into the dying fire.

“I love you, you know.” Sharon says, her voice slightly slurred. Erik looks over at her, his eyebrows arching in surprise. “Charles is my son, Erik. Maybe one day you’ll have a child and know what it feels like to love someone in that way. Even if I’m not a good mother, I do love him. He loves you. And…” Sharon puts up a hand as Erik opens his mouth to protest. “...and if he loves you, so do I. You need to fix this. However you do it, whatever it takes, this is not worth you two being apart.”

Erik doesn’t answer. He rolls Sharon’s words around in his head. Sharon picks up her glass and drains it, apparently having said all she intended, then she pushes herself out of her chair to a stand and looks at Erik.

“Make this right, dear boy.” Sharon says, then she turns and teeters out of the room leaving Erik sitting alone.

Erik doesn’t sleep much that night. His bed is comfortable, the alcohol is buzzing in his veins, and he should be able to sink into some sort of slumber. Instead, he thinks of Charles, of how much he misses him, and Sharon telling him to make it right.

Charles had asked for no contact.

Erik doesn’t think he can do that anymore.

By the time morning has come around the world doesn’t look any less dim. The clouds still hang heavy overhead, there is a drizzle coming down. Erik ignores the look Sharon casts his way as he sips his coffee. Erik sits in the huge dining room and he looks at his mother-in-law. A few minutes later Raven stumbles in, her hair sticking up every which way, wearing a very fluffy pink bathrobe. She flashes him a smile. Suddenly he knows what matters. This matters. This life, these people. He’s not going to let Charles push him away anymore. If they are going to get through this, they will get through it together.

Erik stands up.

Sharon glances up from her iPhone.

Raven cocks an eyebrow.

“I’m...um, I’m going now.” Erik stammers, sounding awkward.

“Okay.” Sharon says.

“About time,” Raven mutters then takes a sip of her coffee.

Erik ignores them all. He dashes out of the dining room and towards the front door. He’s going back to the city. He can drive the Fiat to the station and catch the train. It’s an easy walk from the train to their home, and once he’s there, he’ll tell Charles that whatever they do next, they do it together.

By the time Erik realizes he’s forgotten his umbrella, he’s soaked and running towards the train platform. The rain has turned from drizzle to downpour, but he doesn’t care. He’s going back to the city and back to Charles. He’s going to do what he should have in the first place - fight for the man he loves.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> back on the train

The train to Westchester takes forever. Sometimes it’s not long enough, like when he’s heading there for one of Sharon’s crazy parties. It was often way too short before Erik came into his life and charmed the pants off Charles’ mother. Today the miles crawl by and Charles stares out the window of the train, chewing on a nail and wishing someone had invented a faster method of travel. He probably should have just had Sharon send a car, but he wanted to surprise Erik and Erik had taken their Fiat.

Charles had woken up the morning after drinking with Scott feeling slightly hungover but also knowing what needed to be done. He had texted Raven right away.

_I’m done being an idiot._

_does this mean…_

_Yes. If he’ll have me._

Charles had showered and shaved, threw on some jeans and a t-shirt Erik had commented on in the past, telling him it made his compact, muscled figure look especially nice. He had slapped on some cologne and picked some food from his teeth. It was like getting ready for a date, but this time Charles was going to beg for forgiveness.

Charles smiles as he stares out the window, not seeing the landscape. There isn’t much to see anyway. The day is overcast, a dreamy, hazy gray, and the rain has started to pour down. Instead of watching the sopping wet trees flash by, Charles lets his thoughts wander to Erik and all that has happened. He can’t believe he’s going to Erik because of that asshole Scott Summers. It’s going to really irk Erik when he finds out. This makes Charles smile a little, and it doesn’t hurt. It feels good to feel kind of normal again.

Westchester isn’t a bad journey, but it’s long and Charles is feeling jumpy, wanting this to particular trip to be over sooner than later. Again he wishes he’d just called for the town car, but there would be no way word wouldn’t reach Sharon, and Charles wants to surprise Erik, tell him before he can try to run away. So it’s the train, once again, making its way across the the New York countryside.

A bit over an hour after Charles got on the cold automated voice announces overhead that they are approaching the Westchester station. Charles makes his hands into fists, feeling the way his nails bite into his palms, then he relaxes them. He stands up, stretches his arms, his muscles feeling stiff from sitting. He feels the stretch in his stomach, his shirt riding up a little as he reaches his arms above his head. Charles smiles a little as he pictures how Erik might watch him, how sometimes after he finished a good stretch he would find Erik just watching him.

Charles' eyes feel wet. How did he end up here?

He walks to the sliding doors and waits by them, staring up at the sign that flashes the name of the station. How many times has he made this journey? Countless. He couldn’t wait to leave Westchester, to escape the confines of the mansion, the endless inattention of Sharon, yet he didn’t go far, and now he returns once again. This time it’s not to return to the place he called home for so long but to retrieve the man who has become his home.

Charles huffs out a small sigh and reaches up to wipe away a tear that has formed in the corner of his eye. He reaches to grip a pole as the train slows, bracing himself to keep his balance. It finally stops and Charles releases his grip then turns to look out the door. The station looks the same as it has for as long as Charles can remember: a solid concrete platform, a few benches scattered here and there. A sign reads _Westchester_ for those who might not have intended to get off here. The platform is wet from the rain, puddles littering the way. Charles hunches over a little as the doors slide open, anticipating the drizzle, walks onto the platform and stops.

Erik.

Charles shakes his head a little, as if this is a hallucination and all he needs to do is brush it away. It’s his heart crying out, making what Charles wants so badly to be real. But Erik does not disappear. He stays in Charles’ line of vision, sitting on a bench, waiting for a train.

_A train._

Charles smiles. It’s a small smile but it contains everything. It contains his hopes, his sorrow, his neverending love. He takes a step forward, one, then another, and he wonders if Erik can feel him, can sense his presence. Erik does not turn. He stays looking down the track, watching for the next train. Charles strides forward a little faster, gripped with a sudden urgency, until he is standing next to the bench. Erik is so close that Charles thinks he can feel his warmth, so close that Charles could reach out and touch him, feel the short hairs at the nape of his neck, trace his way down to his shoulder.

“May I sit down?” Charles says. Erik’s head jerks around at the sound of Charles’ voice and Charles hears him gasp. They stare at each other for a long moment, then Charles moves to sit down, settling close to Erik but not quite close enough to touch. Erik says nothing. He just stares at Charles, his lips pressed together, breathing noisily through his nose.

“I…” Charles starts, then stops. He doesn’t know what to say. His husband is here, but suddenly he feels almost like a stranger. Charles takes in a deep, shaking breath, then continues. “I was coming to Westchester.”

Erik says nothing.

“How is Sharon?” Charles tries again. Erik still says nothing. The rain starts to slow to just a blowing mist that settles in fine droplets on Charles' eyelashes. He fights the urge to wipe the moisture away.

Erik reaches out and takes Charles’ hand in his. His grip is warm and strong and familiar. Charles feels tears start to well up and and he fights back his surprise, the way Erik’s touch affects him.

“I never know if I like the rain,” Charles continues, his voice hoarse and trembling. He watches Erik’s face, watches how his lips grow even more pinched, the almost feverish glow in his eyes, and suddenly a great shudder runs through his husband. In one swift motion he brings Charles’ hand up to his mouth then presses a kiss to his knuckles. Then another. His lips are dry, rough, but every touch feels like velvet. Charles sags in relief as Erik presses yet another kiss to the back of his hand and Charles feels the wetness of his tears. Erik lifts his head to look Charles in the face. What Charles sees takes his breath away.

“I love the rain,” Erik whispers.

Charles reaches out with his free hand and traces his fingers along the sharp line of Erik’s jaw then cups it gently, running his thumb across Erik’s lower lip. Slowly, gently, as if he needs permission, Charles leans forward and captures Erik’s mouth with his. The kiss is gentle, a brief touch of lips. There will be time for more later. It is a kiss full of sorrow, apology, regret, and Charles cannot stop himself from sobbing against Erik’s mouth as he tells Erik he’s sorry over and over. Erik breaks the kiss and leans forward to rest his forehead on Charles’.

“Take me home.” Erik whispers.

“Yes.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is Erik.

“We met on the train.” Erik murmurs.

They are sitting pressed together as the train makes its way back towards the city. Charles doesn’t open his eyes. He only nods almost imperceptibly, enjoying the feel of Erik’s shoulder on his cheek. His whole body is weary, as if the fatigue he’s been holding onto for the last terrible weeks can finally break through.

“So it’s good we’re on the train again.”

“Mmmmmm…”

The movement of the train is almost lulling Charles to sleep. He is warm and happy and back with his husband. Nothing can bother him, even Erik's odd ramblings.

“We should mark the occasion.”

“Yes dear.” Charles murmurs, still only half paying attention.

“You should blow me in the bathroom.”

_What the hell?_

Charles’ eyes fly open. He lifts his head from Erik’s shoulder and turns to look at his husband, who returns his gaze and offers him a wide, lecherous smile.

“Erik!”

“It’s what I wanted from you in the first place. The first time I saw you across the ER with that mouth that was made for my cock.”

Erik shrugs. Charles continues to gape.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Then you thwarted me by being funny and smart on top of being hot.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. I’ve seriously missed your ass.”

Charles buries his head in his hands. They’ve been apart for weeks and are finally reunited, and somehow Erik manages to make it all about his ass. Charles isn’t sure what he should have expected.

“You know.” Charles says with a twist of his mouth, “I’m more than just a warm hole to stick it in.”

Erik smiles and grabs Charles' hand, placing a quick kiss on its back. It's a gentlemanly moment, which is ruined by what Erik says next.

“Yes dear,” Erik intones, looking up to give Charles a smile, his eyes sparkling with glee. “You’re at least two warm holes. I love your mouth too --”

“Erik!” Charles sputters with indignation.

“--bringing us back to blowing me in the bathroom.”

Charles stares at Erik, searching for words. Erik waggles - _waggles_ \- his eyebrows. Charles swears they go up and down just like some sort of cartoon caricature. Charles rolls his eyes. Dear god, his husband can handle being contrite for only so long. Charles is about to inform Erik that there’s no way he’ll get what he’s asking for when Erik’s hand brushes across Charles' clothed cock. Charles feel the slow tendrils of desire start to curl in his belly.

_Dear god._

“I’m wondering how the vibrations of the train would enhance me eating you out.”

Charles gulps then glances around, sure they are scandalizing someone’s grandmother, but no one seems to notice the smutty nature of their conversation. People are slumped in their seats, hiding behind newspapers and books, blocking out the world intentionally, the standard procedure for riding the train. Charles returns his gaze to Erik and finds that his husband is looking at him expectantly. He reminds Charles of a child on Christmas day waiting to open his presents, except this time his present is Charles’ ass.

“You do realize we almost broke up.” Charles says slowly. He watches Erik’s face fall.

“Yes.”

“And you want to return to normal, just like that? You think we should…”

Erik chews on his lip and looks at Charles for a long moment. Then he opens his mouth and pours out his heart to Charles in only the way Erik can.

“Yes, I think we should fuck. Because I’ve missed you. Because I want you. Because I have spent the last few weeks feeling like I might die, and I just want to feel normal with you for a few minutes. I could wait until we get home, but goddammit, Charles, I don’t want to. I want you. Here. Now.”

Charles' heart swells and it thumps so hard he feels it might burst from his chest. Only Erik can make the fact that he’s generally a bit of a dirty bastard into one of the most romantic moments Charles has ever experienced.

“Plus, trains are phallic.” Erik says, his lips quirking into a small smile. “They go into tunnels. Like my dick in your ass.”

Charles grins. Erik is right. This feels good, and normal, and he needs that right now. Well, if that’s what his husband wants...

“I love you," Charles says with a smile. He leans forward and places a long, sweet kiss on his husband’s mouth, pulling away just as it threatens to become more. Erik lets out a low moan as he chases after Charles, and the sound is thrilling. "Now, good god, just take me to the fucking bathroom.”  
  


~fin~


End file.
